


Hands of Time

by Fenvenir



Category: OMORI (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29448114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fenvenir/pseuds/Fenvenir
Summary: Sunny has moved out of Faraway, leaving headspace and his friends behind. The new city was supposed to be his chance to start over, but the shadows of the past still loom over him, threatening to consume him.Takes place after the neutral ending.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 80





	1. Let's Meet Again

**Author's Note:**

> This originally started as a concept where Sunny went back to school, and grew from there. There is no schedule planned, so new chapters will depend on how much time and inspiration I have. Characters may diverge from canon personalities, but I guess that's to be expected. Any feedback is welcomed in the comments.

“Sunny, just how long do you plan on staring into space?”

The sound of chalk scraping across the blackboard ceased, and a bout of snickering spread across the room. Murmurs of sneers soon followed, but Sunny minded it no more than a whale does the sea on its back.

“What’s he daydreaming about?”

“I don’t blame him. This class is the worst…”

“Quiet down,” said a middle-aged man in a khaki plaid shirt. Noticing that his question had fallen on deaf ears, he walked over to Sunny’s desk and snapped his fingers. He repeated it a few times, increasingly annoyed by the lack of a response. “Don’t play dumb,” he said in a pointed voice. “Answer me.”

“Is this guy even alive?”

“Do you think Mr. Wheeler’s gonna…?”

“So, this is what you choose? Very well then.” Mr. Wheeler swiftly walked over to his desk and dug through its drawers. The clinking of various objects being shuffled around was interrupted by the sound of something heavy and metallic scraping against wood. From behind the desk came an unholy trinity of stainless-steel rulers, joined together to form an abomination called an architect’s scale. With two hands he gripped the triangular rod like a sword and approached Sunny’s desk. “There’s no place for someone like you in my world. Perish!”

His swing cut through the air, going directly for Sunny’s head. Sunny reacted barely in time to dodge by rolling over to the side. Without hesitation, Mr. Wheeler followed up with another attack. In a desperate move, Sunny brought out his kitchen knife to block. The attack collided with the flat side of the knife blade, which somehow deflected the blow. Before Mr. Wheeler could recover, Sunny took a swipe with his knife.

Mr. Wheeler stepped back. A shallow cut appeared on his abdomen. He glanced at the wound. “I’m surprised.”

Sunny stood cautiously, unsure of his opponent’s next move.

“You’re clearly stronger than them, so why sympathize with them?” Mr. Wheeler cocked his head and lowered his weapon. “I’m genuinely curious.” He watched in amusement as Sunny shifted his stance and reversed his knife grip.

Sunny sprung forth, practically leaping into Mr. Wheeler’s face. Before the knife could follow, Sunny looked to his left for a split-second. He was just in time to see a beam of shiny metal rushing into view. Then, darkness.

Back in the classroom, Sunny jerked at the sound of a loud knock right in front of him. Mr. Wheeler looked at him expectantly, architect’s scale in hand. “Back to the real world are we?”

For the moment, the class was dead silent. It took Sunny a few seconds to piece back together what had happened. Mr. Wheeler seemed to recognize the eventual realization on his face and was not impressed. “You’ll be seeing me after class.”

The only acknowledgement Sunny gave was looking down, dejected.

Enough time had been wasted as it was, so Mr. Wheeler returned to the front of the classroom and resumed the lesson. “Apologies for that. Now as I was saying, modular arithmetic, also known as clock arithmetic…”

“Man, I thought he would jump way more than that.”

“Dude’s a machine.”

Sunny stared at his desk, taking note of how the paint had chipped at the site of the impact. He sighed and turned his notebook to the next blank page.

“… with modular addition, it is entirely possible to keep adding numbers and end up exactly where you started…”

He could only really maintain his attention for so long before some idea set him off on a tangent in his own mind. It wasn’t as immersive as the true dream world, but that was probably for the best. For now, he resolved to absorb what material he could and await the end of yet another dreary class. At least during the remaining time, he had much better luck concealing the moments where he did space out.

“Sunny, why don’t you show the class how this problem is done?”

Damn. Luckily, the topics for today hadn’t been that difficult. He rose out of his chair and moved over to the blackboard. Piece of chalk in hand, he wrote out the solution in small but neat writing. The sound and feel of writing in chalk were surprisingly satisfying. Too bad it got chalk dust all over his hand. He boxed in the answer and returned to his chair.

Mr. Wheeler checked over the work. “That’s right. Does anyone have any questions?”

Class continued. Sunny debated whether to zone out during the final segment, which was just a quiet work period. He knew that if he failed to finish the homework here, it would cut into his free time at home. On the other and more important hand, he would rather not deal with modular multiplicative inverses right now. Once more he slipped back into reverie.

Eventually the bell rung, bringing him back to his senses. He packed up, grabbed his bag, and got up from his desk.

Mr. Wheeler wasn’t about to let him off the hook. “Where do you think you’re going, Sunny?”

Sunny winced. His hands clammed up. Unthinkingly, he quickened his pace walking towards the door.

“Sunny, come back or I will call home.”

The words seemed to freeze Sunny in place. He took a deep breath and tried to think. Yes, he was merely overreacting. This wasn’t the place to make a scene, and he wouldn’t want his mom to think that this was a mistake. He slowly turned around.

Mr. Wheeler was waiting patiently at his desk. Sunny walked over, with some trepidation behind his step. He had never been chewed out by a teacher before, but he was no stranger to being yelled at either. Looking at the various scattered papers and the dusty old computer on the desk, he started to calm down. It’s not like anyone here had it out for him specifically. He just had to act normally, and they would let him be on his way, as they always did.

The teacher sized him up, trying to discern any clues that would give insight to his behavior. “I know I’m not the most engaging teacher, but I’ve never had a student daydream and pretend they were in a coma.” He gestured to the architect’s scale sitting on the desk. “Generally this is reserved for students who are napping.”

Sunny summoned up the expected face of guilt. “I’m sorry, Mr. Wheeler. It won’t happen again.”

Mr. Wheeler raised his eyebrows. “Really? Because you’ve been doing it ever since you’ve stepped foot in this classroom.”

What did he want him to say? That he would keep daydreaming whenever he could get away with it? “Ah, it’s just that I’ve seen some of the material before. Maybe I’ll find the later topics more interesting.” Not entirely a lie.

“You know, normally I let daydreamers get away with it if they know their stuff. And judging from your work, you do. But tell me, as a transfer student here. Do you like it here?” Mr. Wheeler leaned back in his chair.

He knew what the correct answer was, clear as day. It would put a stop to this line of questioning. But perhaps he would be caught out. Or maybe it felt bad to put out such a complete lie to a concerned teacher. He watered it down instead. “It’s okay.”

Sunny could feel intense scrutiny being applied to him. He imagined that this is what being hooked up to a lie detector must feel like. While playing poker. It was time to trust in his usual cliff-faced expression to weather through this.

After some seconds of deliberation, Mr. Wheeler reached his decision. “Well, I don’t want to keep you any longer. But if you’re ever feeling bored, you can swing by and talk to me. Many ages ago, I was a transfer student just like you.”

A wave of relief washed over him. “Thanks, Mr. Wheeler. I’ll see you later.”

“Take it easy.”

And with that, Sunny calmly walked out of the classroom. Nothing had gone too wrong. Mr. Wheeler still seemed worried, but Sunny was doing just fine.

The rest of his morning classes went by normally. That is to say, nothing bad happened.

Lunchtime was the most annoying part of the day, but it had become more manageable after he spent some time learning the school’s layout. All it took was finding a remote part of the courtyard to eat his lunch at. Most of the people here stuck to their own groups, though there were always a few people roaming from place to place. As a result, he would have to occasionally rotate between spots, in case any people had the same idea as him.

His favorite spot was near a particularly young tree that punctuated the end of a cement path and was surrounded by an array of windows on three sides. The tree’s sole companion most days was a single concrete bench standing alongside it.

There was no doubt some reason why students did not come to this place, or if they did, avoided making a habit of returning. He himself did not like the idea of being seen from the empty hallways, nor the inadequate shade the tree provided. But if this was the price for seclusion, then so be it.

He gripped the edge of a white brick wall and turned the corner. Up ahead, the midday sun lit up the path as it split into a halo centered around the tree. He drew in closer and stepped off the cement. Soft blades of grass rustled underneath his shoes. He took his place on the empty bench behind the tree and started eating his school-provided tuna sandwich.

In the past, his friends had always loved to complain about the school lunches and how dreadful they tasted, but to be perfectly honest, he always found them acceptable. Of course they weren’t of the highest quality, but they made no attempt to be, which was something he could respect. He never really told them that, though. Come to think of it, what would they think about it?

Familiar voices from another time chimed in behind him.

“You like steak well done? That’s really weird Sunny!”

“What’s so weird about that?”

“Ugh. Of course you would like it, Aubrey!”

“Hey! At least I don’t like trash like Orange Joe!”

“You take that back!”

“Now, now you two, it’s okay for us to all have different tastes.”

“That’s right, the world would be boring if we all liked the same things.”

“Well, I don’t like steak at all, but I think it’s fine if you like it well done, Sunny!”

“See you two? Basil has the right idea.”

“I didn’t mean it was _weird_ weird, but…”

“I would throw up if I liked the same things as Kel.”

“Shut it Aubrey!”

“You started it!”

The memory faded into pointless bickering. Sunny had already finished his sandwich, so he got up to throw the wrapper away.

When he turned around, he locked eyes with a boy who had been staring at him from a distance.

He immediately stumbled backwards, wholly unprepared for the sight. “Basil?!” he uttered.

The blonde boy’s striking blue eyes told him only of compassion. He heard nothing but condemnation. No welcoming expression, nor sweet smile could silence that. The idea that Basil could look him in the eye like that after what had happened… it was nothing more than a hollow mockery.

“Hello, Sunny,” said Basil.

He had seen phantoms of his friends before, but none were so bold as this one. Not one of them had spoken to him in the waking world before.

Try as it might, his mind could not dismiss this one so easily. His eyelids could not sweep the vision away. He shook his head and wondered if Mari would be joining him shortly. That was the next logical step in this cruel trick being played on him. For now, it would be far better to avert his eyes than to wait and find out.

“It happened again, didn’t it? Something made you do it, right?”

He was right. The friendliness was just a paper-thin mask.

“It’s okay, Sunny. I’m alright now. But I’m worried about you.”

Huh? The words sounded unreal, even for a specter. He wanted to look up, even though he knew it was a bad idea. “W-what are you saying?”

“You don’t look well. Moving away must’ve been hard.”

“How…”

“Your friends are worried about you too, Sunny. They miss you.”

“No, you’ve got it all wrong...” He shut his eyes tight, afraid of what was to come.

“Promise me you’ll come back for them soon, okay?”

Why Basil, of all people? Why was Basil the one asking him? Basil should be cursing his name right now. So why?

“You’re not Basil. You… you can’t be.”

After a short pause, a warm hand reached out and grabbed his chin, pushing it up. The hand came to rest on the side of his cheek. The touch felt reassuring, though it only assuaged his fears a little. He decided to risk opening his eyes, fully expecting something horrific.

They revealed Basil’s pleading eyes, looking into his own.

“I’m your best friend, Sunny. Please.”

This was too much. He couldn’t accept it. Nothing made sense.

Something welled up deep within his chest, gripping his heart. The truth stared him in the face, and he couldn’t help but deny it. Anguish bubbled up from within, etching itself into his face. Basil seemingly took no notice.

The grip tightened further.

And then it squeezed.

“Just leave me alone!” he blurted. He was about to shove away Basil’s hand, but suddenly felt guilty.

Basil withdrew his hand, his face looking visibly hurt. “So… you still don’t forgive me?”

Sunny stared at him in silence, unsure of what to say. No matter what it was, it’d only make things worse. Nevertheless, the words found their way out of his mouth. “I’m sorry for what I did to you.”

Basil’s expression shifted to one of bewilderment. He stopped to think for a while, struggling to comprehend what Sunny meant until a realization struck him. A smile returned to his face.

“You didn’t do anything, Sunny. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

Now it was Sunny’s turn to be confused. “What?”

“I should’ve realized. You were only trying to protect me. Something’s still following you, after all.”

A part of him wanted to latch onto that idea, but he rejected it. “That’s not…”

“But still, I wished you would’ve told me earlier. I had an idea for getting rid of it permanently. I could’ve saved you,” Basil said wistfully.

His chest tightened up again ever so slightly.

“I still can, if you let me.”

Sunny took a few steps back. “I’m not really sure…”

“Don’t be afraid, Sunny. I’ll be by your side.” Basil reached out his arms in an invitation to hug.

He continued to retreat, but Basil followed. He quickened his pace, but so did Basil. Sunny’s heart began to race. He had to get out of there now, or else—

His back suddenly hit a wall.

Before he could react, Basil closed in and embraced him.

He shut his eyes reflexively and froze.

Cold.

He felt so very cold.

The only warmth came from outside him, wrapped around like a woolen blanket. He should’ve reached out and held it, just like it held onto him. But something told him otherwise. The fear from before would not leave him. It kept him petrified.

After some time, the warmth let go.

“Sunny, I have to leave. Let’s meet again, okay?” Basil whispered.

Gradually, his muscles stopped tensing and his thoughts returned to him. Sunny dared to open his eyes again.

It took him a few seconds to register the fact that Basil had turned his back on him and was walking away. He never realized it before, but Basil wore the same pastel green vest as he did when Sunny had last seen him. Before Sunny moved away.

“Wait!" He reached out with his hand, but Basil completely ignored him. His hand fell limply to his side while he watched Basil cut across the cement circle. Desperate for a response, he asked the first question that came to mind. “How are you alive?”

It came out much blunter than he expected, but it was too late to take back.

Basil stopped, as if to answer. He remained silent and instead resumed walking, eventually disappearing around the corner. Sunny stood still. That was definitely the wrong question to ask.

By the time he thought to go out and look for him, it looked as though Basil had long since gotten lost in the crowds.

He tried asking around.

“Some short blonde kid in a vest? I guess I saw a few walking around like that. Why should I care?” Sunny intensely disliked asking snobby prep kids for help, but he couldn’t afford to be picky.

“Please, he’s my friend.”

“I guess that explains it. There was one who seemed as loopy as you, but I have no clue where he went. Now go bother someone else.”

Unfortunately, that was the most helpful answer he got. He gave up his search as the end of lunch drew near.

He wasn’t sure what to make of this day now. He thought that settling into the new school would mark a return to normalcy, or at least some semblance of it. Now it all seemed like a distant dream. He knew better than to obsess over it right now, though. If he couldn’t pull himself together in time for class, something worse would certainly happen. He’s had difficult days before. He just had to remember to keep things under control. And temporarily ignore that Basil was alive.


	2. Everything Was Okay

The very last bell of the day rang. As he walked out of the school, a slurry of memories about the encounter with Basil came flooding back into his mind. He began muttering oddly to himself while he mulled it over.

In retrospect, it had to have been another one of his daydreams, right? There’s no way that Basil could be real. However, unlike most of his visions, this Basil was far less accusatory and far more persistent.

A spirit, then? An actual ghost? He had always scoffed at the idea in the past, but he recalled a chilling line from an old man in the Faraway cemetery on the day Basil died.

“The spirits have been howling all day… Someone will be grieving tonight.”

Though, how could a ghost lift his chin, or put a warm hand on his cheek?

The third possibility, that Basil was alive, seemed simultaneously outlandish and clearly true to his experience. It would either require that Basil somehow faked his suicide, or had cheated death, like in a dumb comic book plot. In fact, he had probably first read such a plot as a child in some issue of _Space Boyfriend_.

On top of that, Basil would need to have traveled to Cosmonx, which was a long way out from Faraway. There was also no accounting for what Basil had been doing in the time between Sunny’s move-out and the present day.

It was all completely ridiculous. And yet, Basil felt alive. There was no denying that. Or the kid who had seen Basil.

“What did it all mean?”

He couldn’t say.

However, alive or not, something about Basil deeply worried him.

Maybe Basil secretly wanted to see him suffer. He couldn’t say that he didn’t deserve it. Worse still would be if Basil genuinely wanted to help him.

He wasn’t looking forward to meeting Basil again. He was a terrible person for thinking that, but what else was new? He killed Mari. Killed Basil too. Abandoned his friends. He didn’t even have the courage to—

“No.” He shouldn’t think about that.

—kill himself.

He would only make things worse. Like he always did.

He did it again. His train of thought had gotten derailed into a predictable place. It was pointless to continue, so he shelved the issue, hoping that it wouldn’t crop up again at least until tomorrow. He rushed past the strange looks around him and hurried on home.

Several city blocks passed by him in a haze. He arrived at the wooden gate of the townhouse he now lived in.

It was in a fairly nice neighborhood, with happy families and neat well-kept landscaping. His mom took special care to make good use of the money made from selling the old house. But unless she expected the happiness to rub off on them through osmosis, it was a strange place to harbor them.

The building itself presented an orderly façade, a tasteful mixture of stone, glass, and wood. On the inside, silence welcomed him, as usual. And he welcomed it.

All was still, save for a blinking light nearby. Apparently, there were some new voicemail messages on the landline phone. Out of curiosity, he pressed the play button.

“THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING. THE IRS—” Beep.

“Message deleted.”

“Congratulations! You’ve won—” Beep.

“Message deleted.”

“Hey Sunny, it’s Kel. How’ve you been? I know that you want to move on, but if you’ve got the time, I’d like to talk to you. Hero—” Beep.

“End of messages.”

It was time to tackle multiplicative inverses and all those other assignments he had neglected. He went upstairs to his room, where it was infinitely easier to focus. That didn’t make the work any less boring or tedious, but he no longer had to worry about being carried away by his own imagination.

All that mattered were the questions on the paper. Regardless of how abstract or detached from all context they seemed, it was his responsibility to figure out how to best fill the page. Sure, one had to draw on knowledge from books or the mind from time to time, but it was merely a shuffling of ideas from one container to the next. Though the teachers might dress it up with applications or demands to synthesize new information, that’s all it ever was.

After several hours had passed, he could finally put his pencil down. He gave his hands a good shake and sat back in his chair, wondering what to do next. A loud grumbling in his stomach answered.

Heading back downstairs, he was about to go into the kitchen and look for a bite to eat, but the front door started to unlock. His mom came through, dressed in wrinkled business attire and clutching several plastic bags.

“Oh Sunny! I had to stay late at work again, but I brought home dinner.”

“Need help?” He pointed at the bags.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” She walked over to the dinner table and set her takeout bags down. “Since you’re down here already, let’s have a family dinner together. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Sunny said nothing, but he didn’t take the food and run either. She assumed that this meant agreement. Once the plates were set and the food had been taken out, they both sat at the nearly spotless table, on opposite ends of its width.

“How was school today?”

He ignored the question, preferring to instead fill his mouth with as much food as it could fit.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it. I know you’re doing your best.” She took a bite out of her own food. “I was really worried about you going back to school. After homeschooling for so long, I wasn’t sure if it was the best idea, even when you insisted.”

He was now stuck chewing a giant wad of vegetables. It would be a while before he could get it to go down.

“But when your first progress report came in, I was so proud of you! You’re such a good boy!”

Still chewing.

“Though, I know it can get hard when I have to be out working so much. Have you been able to make friends?”

At last he could swallow. He proceeded to shovel in more food.

“Just keep taking things at your own pace. I’m sure that as long as you keep looking, you’ll find some great new ones eventually!”

His mom asked a few more questions that went unanswered before finally giving up.

Not responding was the best he could do, other than telling more lies. It would at least keep his mom’s hopes up. She didn’t need to hear any damning questions about his future, how hollow her optimism rang, nor how sick he was of reassurances. Yet here he sat, wanting to say all those things while trying to shove them back down his throat with food.

When he cleared his plate, he hastily excused himself and scampered off. His mom didn’t stop him. The fact that he had sat down to eat with her in the first place was enough for her.

Back in his room, the urge to say something passed, but now he was all alone with his thoughts.

He could try to go to sleep now, but it was too early in the night for that. He would probably end up staring at the ceiling aimlessly. That left rereading random books from his collection, working on assignments due later in the week, or going on the computer.

With the press of a beige button, the old desktop computer whirred to life, and the image of green rolling hills under a blue sky flashed onto the CRT monitor. He had long since tired of playing shark-themed blackjack, but now he had access to the internet. The _Megaclip_ website appeared on screen, showcasing a dizzying variety of games. A lot of them were simplistic and not much more fun than blackjack, but they were great for killing time.

And kill time he did.

He played and played until his eyes began to strain, and a dull pain started pulsating at the sides of his head. Finding it hard to concentrate, he took his eyes off the current game for a second and glanced at the computer clock.

Finally, it was time to sleep.

Although his mom had stopped enforcing bedtimes long ago, he still tried to maintain a consistent sleep schedule, a habit developed from the years he spent immersed in headspace. Back then, he did everything in his power to ensure that he dreamed for as long as possible, which depended on him sleeping soundly.

That must have been nice.

He plopped his head onto the pillow and clasped it around his ears, trying to put pressure on the pain. Really it was just a way of holding out until the aspirin kicked in.

Eventually, he passed out.

* * *

His eyes opened. He expected midnight darkness, but a strange deep blue light filled his room instead. The light streamed in through a singular window, hitting the opposite wall and undulating in a wavy pattern. Confused, he got up and looked out the window. As he suspected, the room appeared to be underwater… only not?

The water’s surface was nowhere to be found above him. It was sideways, placed in front of the window some distance away, like a massive shimmering wall that stretched out in all directions. Somewhere beyond it shined an unknown light source.

Had he unwittingly returned to headspace?

The insides of his room looked completely accurate to the real world, save for the ominous blue lighting. There was even the one sticky note attached to the border of his monitor, with perfectly legible handwriting. Only, the handwriting wasn’t his.

“Omori let’s stay in touch okay? ###-###-####”

It was unmistakably the note Aubrey gave him before he moved away. But the number was obscured, and his name had been replaced with one that he had hoped to never see again.

He looked over himself to double check that he wasn’t in Omori’s monochrome body. His reflection in the monitor also confirmed that he was still Sunny, thankfully.

Against his better judgment, he booted up the computer to see what would happen. The normal desktop background had been replaced with a photo of a grey brick wall. No programs existed besides Omori’s journal, which was filled with undated entries repeating the same few sentences over and over again. Useless.

He turned to leave the room, but the door wouldn’t budge. The knob turned in his hand, but no amount of force could get the door to move even an inch. He peered through the keyhole to see if he could make out anything on the other side.

Nothing but pitch black.

He sighed. Looks like there was only one way out of here. He rummaged through his room in search of a knife.

True enough to reality, he could not find one. Maybe a pair of scissors would do the job.

He pointed them at his stomach and practiced the motions a few times before bringing his arm back for the actual swing. A part of him hesitated.

What if he was really stabbing himself?

That’s impossible. This couldn’t be reality. He needed to leave this dream. This was the only way.

The hand holding the scissors began to shake.

Why was he so afraid? He’d done it so many times before.

He needed to do it. No more delays. He forced his hand to swing before it could protest further.

Metal pierced his flesh. Searing pain tore through his insides. He fell to his knees and let go of the scissors, which were now embedded in his stomach. Blood oozed out of the wound.

A cry of pain escaped his mouth. It didn’t look like he was going to wake up.

By this point, he should have thought that he made a massive mistake. That he had to do something. Call for his mom. Anything. Otherwise, he would bleed out in his room and die pathetically, all because he was so desperate to leave headspace. But he couldn’t think at all.

Pain continued to consume him.

It was all he knew for the next unimaginable stretch of time.

It consumed all until there was nothing left.

Until it finally began to fade, along with the dying embers of his consciousness.

His eyes slowly closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headspace in the game wasn't very interesting once you knew its secret, so I'm trying to figure out a way to keep it relevant. If I were feeling evil and writing a oneshot, this is where I would end it. But that wouldn't be very satisfying.


End file.
